This week’s Torah portion speaks of those who voluntarily take on the vow of the Nazirite, usually for a limited amount of time. This text seems far-removed from our contemporary concerns, but it raises a vital question for us today.

Those who took the Nazirite vow could not go near a dead body for any reason, even to mourn a close relative. They could not cut their hair or trim their beards, nor could they partake of wine or strong drink.

The Torah makes clear that the purpose of the Nazirite vow was to make one “Holy to the Eternal One. (Numbers 6:8).”

We rightly wonder. How could imposing these strange restrictions upon oneself make a person more holy to God than he or she was before?

The answer eludes me, but it does not matter.

The more important question is: What can we do today to make ourselves more “Holy to the Eternal One?” What can we do to inspire ourselves to more fully embrace our covenantal obligations as descendants of Abraham and Sarah to: “Be a blessing (Genesis 12:2),” to embrace God’s teachings and be worthy of them (Genesis 17:1)” and to do our best and teach our children and grandchildren to do their best to fill the world with “Tzedakah (righteousness) and Mishpat (justice) (Genesis 18:19)?”

Certainly, the acts we perform to inspire ourselves have changed over the millennia, but the goal remains the same.

We seek to more closely live up to the Divine Image in which we were created and to use the talents with which God has blessed us to make a more just, caring and compassionate society for all of God’s children!

One of the great examples of Reform Jewish thinking, some 2000 years before there was anything called Reform Judaism, regards the Festival of Shavuot.

In the Torah, Shavuot is strictly an agricultural holiday, a celebration of both the first summer fruits and the barley harvest (Leviticus 23:15-22). Our ingenious Rabbinic Sages reformed (and I use that word purposely) the festival into the anniversary of our biblical ancestors received the Torah at Mount Sinai. We cannot be sure of exactly how it happened but I imagine a scenario much like this:

A group of concerned rabbis were discussing the state of Jewish life. One Sage mused, “You know, Shavuot just doesn’t attract the great crowds to celebrate in Jerusalem that it once did.”

A second Rabbi answered: “That’s true, but it’s understandable. Times have changed!”

A third participant: “You are absolutely right! When we were primarily an agrarian society, first fruits and the barley harvest were compelling reasons to celebrate. Now, that we have become more urban, those occasions don’t mean as much to many people.”

First Sage: “What can we do?”

A fourth participant spoke up: “I’ve got it! If you look at the Torah, Shavuot comes 50 days after the first day of Pesach. That’s just about the same amount of time that it took our ancestors to travel to Mount Sinai after they left Egypt! Even though the Torah does not make the connection explicitly we can make the connection. From now on we can celebrate Shavuot—in addition to its biblical significance–as a joyous celebration of when we received Torah at Mount Sinai”.

A fifth Sage asks: “Can we do that?”

The fourth responds: “Not only can we, we must!! If we want our precious Jewish heritage to endure, we must be skilled interpreters of biblical texts so that they speak meaningfully to the present and future realities of our people.”

In this way, I can easily imagine, the rabbis of the Talmudic period took a fading agricultural festival and gave it a historical underpinning and new life for future generations. In similar fashion, our early Reform leaders made Shavuot the time when ninth, tenth, or—in some communities–twelfth grade students celebrate Confirmation.

The example of what our ancient Sages did with Shavuot must continue to inspire our thinking as Reform Jews today. If we want our precious heritage to remain vibrant and relevant, we must always be eager to embrace opportunities to make our traditions and celebrations speak more meaningfully to our children and grandchildren!

When we do, let us rejoice that the process of continually “reforming” Judaism is wholly consistent–and not at odds–with the process by which our Rabbinic Sages enabled Judaism to speak to the realities of their time and place.

In parashat Bemidbar (Numbers 3:1-7) God instructed the Levites to care scrupulously for the sacred vessels of our ancient tabernacle in our people’s journey to the Promised Land. Today, our sacred vessels are the children we teach, and how we do it can change their lives.

On the first day of class Shulamit Steinlight, my first Hebrew teacher, who died in 2010 at the age of 95, asked us our Hebrew names. I had no clue.

When I asked, my parents informed me that my Hebrew Name was “Siskin Labe.”

Mrs. Steinlight, who had lived for some time in Israel, exclaimed with a slight wrinkling of her nose, “That’s Yiddish!” You need a Hebrew name. It will be אריה . And אריה (Aryeh) it has been from that day to this.

Mrs. Steinlight gave me much more than my Hebrew name.

We were a rowdy bunch, but Mrs. Steinlight never lost her temper and never raised her voice. She made it clear, though, that she was there to teach, and we were there to learn. But I was not interested.

Mrs. Steinlight made me feel loved anyway.

Eventually, Hebrew and Jewish learning became vital to me, and I realize that Mrs. Steinlight was one of the reasons.

A couple of years before she died I located her and called her on the phone to tell her what she meant to me. Although she was thrilled almost to tears by my call, I sensed that she did not remember me. But no matter!I will always remember that she treated me like a sacred vessel entrusted to her care. And I am so glad I could tell her.

This coming Shabbat is Yom Yerushalayim, “Jerusalem Day.” It should be a day to celebrate with joy the reunification of Jerusalem. But it should also be a day when Jews show sensitivity to Jerusalem’s Arab population.

From 1948 to 1967 Jews could not pray at our holiest site, the Western Wall of our ancient Temple. Since 1967 Jerusalem has been a place where the holy sites of all religious faiths are open to worshippers of those faiths.

Yom Yerushalayim should be an occasion to show the world that Jerusalem is a city where different nationalities live and all are welcome. It should be a city that respects and affirms diverse religious expressions. It should be a city that is in the words of the prophet “a light to the nations (Isaiah 49:6)!”

In recent years, to my sadness, Yom Yerushalayim has been marred by racist Jews. (Even to say those two words together makes my heart blanch.) Yes, a small minority of Jews actually march en masse through Arab neighborhoods shouting “Death to the Arabs,” and “the Mosque will burn!”

Israel should have zero tolerance for such racist activity.

The government should issue strong warnings against them, and those who engage in this kind of incitement should face severe punishment. Israel—and Jerusalem in particular—must hold itself to the highest standard of human behavior.

In the hope of preventing these horrible actions this year I have written to Mr. Nir Barkat, the mayor of Jerusalem. Now Mr. Barkat certainly reads English, but I wanted to express myself as a lover of Israel in Hebrew. My letter in translation follows.

To Mayor Barkat, Shalom!

This coming Shabbat we shall celebrate Yom Yerushalyim. Jerusalem is our capitol. But it is also the city where many Palestinians and other Arabs also live. I request of you to do all in your power to prevent racist demonstrations against Arabs. Such demonstrations bring disgrace upon Israel in the eyes of the world.

With great respect,

Rabbi Stephen Fuchs

Even though I am a firm believer in “free speech” I believe Israel should prevent these demonstrations. Why? They are a form of overt “hate speech.” These demonstrations are a direct incitement to violence. They should have no place in Israel.

I hope you will join me as I, “Pray for the Peace of Jerusalem” and that you will add your voice in appealing to the city’s mayor to insure that the “City of Peace” lives up to its name.

I urge all of you who love and care about Israel to write as well. Mayor Barkat’s email is nir@jerusalem.muni.il.

In vain I searched the Internet for the words from Yitzhak Rabin seared into my memory but apparently forgotten by Google among his more famous speeches.

It was in July of 1974 when during his first term as Prime Minister Rabin addressed a joint session of congress and eloquently described learning the words on the Liberty Bell in their original Hebrew as a small child: “U’kratem dror ba-aretz l’chol yoshveha – Proclaim liberty throughout the land to all of its inhabitants (Leviticus 25: 10).”

Rabin pointed out that this cardinal foundation of both American and Israeli democracy comes form this week’s Torah portion.

As recent events from Ferguson to Baltimore in the USA and the demonstrations in Tel Aviv and Jerusalem in Israel attest, the United States at age 238 and Israel at age 67 both fall far short of that biblical goal.

Though neither country has yet achieved its lofty ideals, neither fails to hold its ideals aloft.

A just, caring and compassionate society is easy to articulate but difficult to achieve.

It is easy to give in to despair and anguish when we look at the world around us. Many do.

But isn’t it a better choice for each of us to do something—however small–to move the world closer to the day when, “They shall not hurt or destroy in all My holy mountain (Isaiah 11:9).”

We must do what we can

We may not cure cancer but we can give food to the hungry. We may not make peace in the world but we help a child learn to read. Possibilities abound.

As we light the candles to welcome a Shabbat of peace and joy into our lives, let us think of how we might light a candle to bring peace and joy into the lives of others.